


More Than a Metaphor

by AngelicGrace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Meta, POV Second Person, Short One Shot, like hella short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicGrace/pseuds/AngelicGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When others look at the two of you, their eyes slide past you and latch on to him. You are used to it, because he is the sun, charming, blinding, while you are simply the moon, desperately trying to reflect his brilliance. But you look at him too (how could you not?), and he always looks back (though you never notice).</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than a Metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written in Second Person POV, so this was a fun exercise for me :) love me some Steve/Bucky. Please (please please please) comment any constructive criticism/compliments you have. Even the shortest comment would mean a lot <3 thanks guys  
> 

When others look at the two of you, their eyes slide past you and latch on to him. You are used to it, because he is the sun, charming, blinding, while you are simply the moon, desperately trying to reflect his brilliance. But you look at him too (how could you not?), and he always looks back (though you never notice).

You were kids when you met, you, small and skinny, and him, already tall and muscular. You lay there, bloody and beaten in an alleyway, as others walked past your prone form. No one noticed you lying there (except him). You were invisible until he grabbed your arm and pulled you up off the ground, though you protested. You could take care of yourself, and he didn’t doubt it (he was the only one). But when he found out how you came to be lying there in your own blood, his eyes darkened and he left. You thought nothing of it. Everyone leaves you. Except that he came back, with blood on his knuckles and a smile on his face, and just like that, you were friends.

He doesn’t understand that not everyone sees you the way he does (to him, you are beautiful, a whole marvelous universe compressed into a tiny frame). He sets you up on date after date, and the two of you would take girls dancing, but each girl’s bright eyes would be fixed on him, and you’d understand, because you’d be staring at him too.

You love him. You come to the realization as he smiles at you before leaving for war, his lips stained cherry red from his latest date, and all you want to do is pull him down for just one taste of that sinful mouth you know so well, but you abstain and tease him instead. You were taught from a young age that thoughts like these would send you to hell. You don’t care. There are worse things to go to hell for.

Then comes the war. You are different, taller, stronger, but still (Erskine reminds you) a good man. And suddenly, you are the sun, everyone else falling into orbit around you. Girls look at you now (the same way you look at him) and it’s all very strange. You complain about it to him, and he laughs, chuckling that only you would complain about getting a girl’s attention when that was all you wanted back home (That’s a lie. All you wanted was him, but he doesn’t know that). He treats you the same. He doesn’t think you’re worth more because of what you’ve become. He knows that you haven’t changed (not really), but now everyone can see how great you are.  He doesn’t follow your lead because you’re the "star-spangled man with a plan". He follows you because you’re still the same old punk from Brooklyn who doesn’t know how to back down from a fight.

He follows you, and he falls. He falls from the train into the snow, and you think desperately that it’s not right, because he is not cold like the icy mountains. He is warmth and kindness and cocky grins, and it just isn’t fair. You do not mourn, because you are Captain America and everyone looks to you for guidance. (You hate it. What’s the point of being Captain if you can’t grieve when your universe implodes?) You pick up your shield and act like it doesn’t matter (but it hurts, oh it hurts so much). Another soldier dead. So it goes. But it’s inconceivable, that the world just keeps turning and the war keeps raging like nothing happened (but he is gone, so yes, something happened). Months later, you follow him into the ice (He would yell at you for that. He never liked you putting yourself in danger). You follow him the way you always have, and you have a date with death.

Then you wake, nearly seventy years later, but he is still gone (that wasn’t part of the plan). He is remembered as your sidekick, your friend, though he means so much more to you than even he knew. You make new friends (but none of them are him), and you fight and eat and sleep like a well-oiled machine. When aliens invade New York, when you fight them off, one by one, you think of him. If he were there, fighting beside you, he would place himself between the enemies and you, though you still don’t need saving. It wouldn’t matter to him. He was your first shield, before you even knew what vibranium was. You miss him.

Then your newest foe arrives. He is a ghost story, while you are etched in history. He is ice where you are fire, and he is dead inside while you are so, so, alive. You know exactly where you stand. He is the enemy, you need to put him down, and it’s all black and white. Until his mask comes off, and then everything is in shades of gray. You know that face (but he was dead, how is he here?), and he’s beating the shit out of you on top of a burning helicarrier. You were never one to back down from a fight (he knows that best of all), but he has always been the one you fight _for_ , not against. You’re with him ‘til the end of the line, and that’s all it takes. He stops, and you fall.

He saves you from the river. You look for him after drifting into consciousness on the riverbank (only he could have saved you). He flees. Until that one day when he stops running, and you see in his eyes that it’s really him. You see it because he looks at you like you are his universe, and he was the only one who ever looked at you like that (that should have been your clue, that he loves you just as much as you love him).

And now you understand that he is not the sun (though he burns so bright), and you are not the moon. Flimsy metaphors could never define the two of you, not really. You are not only Captain America, and he is not the Winter Soldier. You are simply Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as you’ve always been. You look at him like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you (he is), and he smiles at you like you’re the home worth coming back to (you are, and he’s trying), and you both hope that will be enough (it is).

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was partially inspired by a quote by lostcap on tumblr: "You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you, and it’s like a goddamn tragedy, because you look at him and see the stars, and he looks at you and sees the sun. And you both think the other is just looking at the ground”  
> I feel like I went overboard with how many parentheses I used (oops) but I couldn't really help it. It just felt right.


End file.
